


Anise

by nicotinedragon



Category: Invisible Inc. (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:40:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicotinedragon/pseuds/nicotinedragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shalem invites Decker to his hotel room for drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anise

I’m sitting in the chair in some hotel, an unusually nice one. Shalem is pouring drinks

I guess this is kind of sudden, but there was just this…tension. I don’t think there’s any aphrodisiac more potent than the knowledge you could die horribly at any time. Nothing makes you closer than combat, and we’d just gotten off a mission. I watched him shoot a guard at close range. The blood splattered all over him, ruining the suit, like some sort of demented Pollock painting. He hasn’t changed out of it. .

I pick my words carefully, because it’s kind of hard to describe.

“It’s kind of light, almost fruity. It’s like sparks raining down on me. Lasts a few seconds and fades.”

“Fruity?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. It was a trap or some weak pretense. He offered to let me try something called arak. It’s a Lebanese thing, anise-flavored liquor made from figs or grapes. It’s hard not to be curious about a drink that’s nicknamed ‘lion’s milk’.

Anyway, he offered as soon as we stepped into the transporter, said he got a good bottle from his family back home. They make it themselves. Every family has their own recipe. I told him there were moonshiners in my family, too. He didn’t laugh. Didn’t really look at me, either. I guess he was nervous.

“Yeah. I swear I can smell something tropical when it hits me. It doesn’t last.”

“And Mask?”

“That one actually feels kind of good, in a weird way. It feels like someone rolling a hot, metal rolling pin up my back kind of slowly. It lingers on the shoulders a bit. Kind of has a smoky aftertaste. A little crunchy. Very warm.”

I think he just likes hearing my nonsensical explanations for what daemons feel like. Nobody ever believes they feel differently, but they do, and I’m never wrong, so there.

I didn’t feel right telling anybody I was meeting him after hours, not that anybody would really care. He checked into a hotel and gave me a key. He told me to let myself in, not to knock. Yeah, basic protocol when you’re having an affair.

“Blowfish?”

“A lot like the name. Blinding, electric. Unrelenting. A little salty and savory. It feels like a drill right into my back. Doesn’t stick around, gone as soon as I disconnect.”

We haven’t told anybody; we won’t tell anybody. It’s nobody’s business but ours. I could say I’m not into guys, but nobody would believe me, meeting a man in a hotel room for some alcohol. I don’t believe myself.

I get it. It’s just old corporate homophobia that hasn’t worked its way out of me, yet. He understands; he doesn’t admonish me for it, just shows me how wrong I am in that smug little way of his.

“What’s the worst one?”

“Paradox. Imagine pure, intense, and brilliant light stabbing up your entire spinal column. I see stars when it hits me. That one has aftershocks that last. Tastes like fruit punch. Gives me back spasms for hours.”

“It didn’t seem to _hurt_ you last time.”

Well, it’s not exactly stealthy to scream in pain on mission. I have to just take it, gasping and squirming, “Yeah, well, it did.”

“I smell synesthesia.” He jokes as he walks over to me, handing me a glass. I sip slowly; it’s mildly sweet and full of earth with a tongue burning finish.

His hands are cold as they wrap around my neck, squeezing gently, rubbing out the soreness.

“You’re tense and warm.” He says. His hands are so cold I feel them even when he lets go.

He takes my hat off, carefully, and sets it down on the table. Then he gently lifts my chin and his lips are on mine, barely, just brushing. Cautious. I’m surprised I’m letting him do this. His mouth is cold from the arak. His fingernails brush down my neck and to my shirt. He undoes my tie and a few buttons. I set the glass down and scratch his scalp.

We’re an unlikely couple, I’ll admit. I think everyone has a bet going on how long it’s going to take for Internationale and me to hook up. I can see myself doing that, but I’m not sure. I think I’d drive her crazy.

Shalem is gentler than I would have guessed. He pulls away slightly, still holding my face, “If I had your ability, I wouldn’t tell anyone. It doesn’t seem worth it.”

“It’s not a big deal. Unless I’m drunk, I’m always in pain.”

He sits down on the bed, “You’re tougher than you look.”

“Nah,” I sip the arak, “Just used to it.”

I’m used to his backhanded compliments, too.

“Is that why you started drinking?” He asks.

“Partially,” I admit, “alcohol really helps with nerve pain.”

All kinds of pain, actually.                                                     

I remove my tie. He lights up a cigarette and stares at me through the smoke. I’m fascinated by the light in his eyes. We pass the cigarette back and forth while we drink quietly. I don’t usually do menthols, but it goes damned well with the drink.

He has this look in his eyes like he might kill me. He takes a drag off the cigarette and exhales slowly, “Come here.”

I stand up and lean over him, putting my hands on the bed. I nervously plant my lips on his, a little rougher than I intended. He smiles and gets started on my shirt again. His hands are really cold. So is his mouth. I taste anise and menthol and smoke on his tongue. His stubble scrapes at me and I smell aftershave.

His hands run down my ribs and pause at my hips. They slide up my back, under my shirt, and pull me closer. He leans back and I follow. I grind against him and he breathes into my mouth. I go for his neck, which makes him a little nervous, but I keep it gentle.

I pull away to take one last drag off the cigarette, still in his hand. He puts it out and I lean in to kiss him again. He inhales my secondhand, except a lot of it leaks out. He chokes the smoke and I laugh to myself as I work on his shirt.

I get myself on the bed and he moves to accommodate so that we’re not hanging off all awkwardly. His hand grips just above my thigh and he strokes there, moving in. I let out this unashamed moan into his neck.

He chuckles, “Sensitive?”

I bite down where his neck met his shoulder in response. He runs a single finger across my thigh and I grab his shoulders, squeezing. He keeps right on laughing at me. I squeeze his neck and my thumb brushes over that scar on his cheek. I focus on his adam’s apple, sucking there.

I dip lower, to his collarbones and his hand dips down my thigh and pulls it toward him, so that I’m halfway straddling him. He untucks my shirt, pulling it off my shoulders, and feels my back, looking for my sensitive spots.

Well, two can play at that game.

I feel his fingers brush across the scars. They seem to fascinate him. I kind of like his scars, too,. I get his shirt off and feel those knotted ridges left by knives and those places where his skin had been burned smooth. Maybe I’ll ask about them, sometime. I dip lower and feel them with my tongue, tasting the salt on his skin. He tries to stay quiet, so I listen to his breathing and feel the rise and fall of his chest.

I brush a thumb over his nipple and his eyes close and his chin lifts, so I focus there, flicking my tongue over it. I slide my hand down over his belt and to the tent in his trousers. I switch off to stroke him through his clothes. His breath shakes and I smile.

He sits up enough to reach my ass and pull me against him. Our mouth crush together again and I get my hands on his belt and undo it impatiently. He laughs lowly and speaks against my lips, “Quick to start, quick to finish.”

I bite his lower lip and get my hand around him, stroking slowly. His breath catches and he gets his fingers under my beltline. Soon, we’re stroking each other and our kissing is getting a lot rougher, hurried. His hand draws a tight wire through my limbs.

He gasps, “Slow down.”

I pause, “Now, who’s quick to finish?”

He reaches for something on the dresser and messes with it behind my back while I get his pants off. “

“You can’t appreciate a good thing when you have it,” he tells me.

His cold, wet fingers draw down my spine and I shiver against him. I bite his ear in reply.

I mutter into his ear, “What are you-?” He pushes a finger inside me and I moan. I have to let go of him to grab his shoulders, squeezing.

“Relax.” He tells me.

“Kinda…hard…”I’m grinding against his hand and his hips and trying to keep cool at the same time. I’m biting and kissing and licking all over his neck and he bites his lip, smirking that irritating little smirk.

“Ah, you’re a screamer, aren’t you?”

“N-No….” He adds another finger and I have to bite the pillow to keep quiet. I have one leg straight and the other bent under his to give myself some leverage. His fingers burn nicely but it hurts and I’m not sure if I want him to stop or not.

“I bet I can change that.”

He rolls me onto my back and impatiently strips me down to my socks, which he doesn’t even bother with, and repositions his arm to slide his fingers in again. It’s nicer the second time around, doesn’t hurt as much. I grip the sheets and hiss. He leans over me to mummer, “Am I hurting you?”

“Ngh, not exactly…”

He replies with a kiss that only starts gentle. Soon he’s slathering lube everywhere. He grabs my hips and presses against me. I hook one leg around his waist and another over his shoulder.

He gets this panicky look for a second, “Are you sure about this?”

I almost don’t understand the question.

“For fuck’s sake, Shalem!” I sort of snarl. He leans over me, positioning himself. I let out a gasp as he presses against me.

“Just relax….” He says as he pushes in slowly. I grit my teeth and suck air. He slides in about halfway, hot and thick and slick. He exhales, watching with glassy eyes. Lightning shoots up my back and I pull him closer with my legs. He bites his lip and pulls away slightly, adding more lube. He holds my hips as he rocks just slightly, a few centimeters at a time.

I let out a gasping moan and he shushes me. I dig my nails into the sheets and try to keep quiet. It doesn’t work. I go ridged against the tension as I struggle to adjust. I drown in crashing waves of heat. My entire body shakes as I slowly relax.

He runs his hand down my face and pulls my lower lip into a pout with his thumb. He gives me this smirk and slides deep inside of me and pauses. I gasped in shock. I didn’t think he had that much left. He waits, panting and staring at me. Our breath mixes harsh and loud. The heat and pressure is almost overwhelming. Almost.

He tries to keep the movements slow, but it doesn’t last. He pins my wrists over my head with one hand and leans over to mutter something in Arabic in my ear. I practically scream every time his weight comes down on me. I shift my hips off the mattress and his breath catches on the sudden change.

He keeps a free hand around me, stroking almost in time with his thrusts. I strain against the one hand pinning me and try to get closer. I get my legs around his waist and pull him tight against me. I jerk up to meet his thrusts and he’s telling me to slow down again. Sweat drips off his body onto mine; his breath comes short and quick through his teeth and parted lips.

I shift him with my hips, bringing our faces together. He lets go of my arms to groan against my lips. I deepen the kiss, tasting his teeth and memorizing his lips. He tightens his grip around me, stroking harder. I make this fragile, needy, little whine and I pressed my hips tight to his hand. He laughed softly against my lips as I let out a rushed gasp and froze.

He gets an arm around me and holds me tight for that long warm moment before I breathe again. He pins me to the wall and rocks into me hard. I dig my nails into his back, screaming. With a groan, he pulls out of me and our seed mixes between us in one sticky mess.

He lets me down slowly, laying down and pulling me into him. His hands are shaking as they find mine and lace. He rolls us onto our side and kisses the back of my neck.

I mutter into the pillow, “We need a shower.”

He chuckles into my neck and gives me a squeeze, “Later. I want to enjoy this, first.”

He laces our fingers together and holds them against my chest. He sits us up against the pillows and goes for the arak and cigarettes.

I take a long sip of the arak, the ice cold drink feels amazing on the tongue. The anise burns nicely.

“Go ahead and blame it on the liquor, if you’d like.” Shalem lights up.

“Why would I do that? I’m not even buzzed.”

He runs his fingers gently through my hair in reply and we trade off, sharing.

“We’ll leave separately, of course.” He says.

“Fine.” I take a drag off his cigarette.

He gives me a cold look and hands me the rest of the arak, “You understand…”

“I get it.” I finish the drink. He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray.

“I don’t like my work and personal life mi-““Shalem, I get it.”

He sighs and leans back to the bed, hugging me tight.

“It’s not you…”

“Night, Shalem.” I turn out the lights.


End file.
